He came back again last night, in the early hours of the morning. He came back to pull me from a comfortable sleep, this time to drag me so far into the depths of my subconscious that I could not escape. I have often wondered later, after I have calmed myself from whatever hell I was dreaming of long enough to realize that I am safe, why certain dreams repeat. Many of these nightmares I have lived, some I have not. I think some of them stem from the “what if” or “could have”…. I am unsure. This one stems from a simple argument and turns very violent and gruesome. It did not all happen. It is as if he has the freedom to do all he threatened and carry on while I sleep and I hate him for it.
He was angry at me. He was angry about something in the kitchen. It was something the children had or had not done, and whatever it was, it was bad. He was screaming at me, pausing to wait for an answer but only really seeming to hear the “I am sorry, I am so sorry,” over and over again. He yelled at me to “deal with it” and I immediately sprang into action, but was stopped from going to the other side of the kitchen by him standing in my way. I stopped, directly in front of him, waiting for him to let me by. He finally took a half of step to one side and I tried to slide between him and the countertop. Whether he saw an opportunity or whether he had planned it, he immediately took advantage of my nearness by lashing out at me. He smacked me in the ass, hard. I tried to move by again and he pushed me against the counter harder. I tried to turn and go the other way and he managed to catch my wrist.
I guess I knew I was in trouble long before he caught my arm. I knew the moment I had stepped into the kitchen and saw that look on his face. He was searching for a reason and all I could do was await my sentence. He jerked me around with such strength that I was forced to turn my entire body with his motion to stop it from making me want to scream out with pain. I didn’t utter a sound. Even when he pulled me back around and pushed my arm behind my back, shoving me against the counter, my arm behind my back. His face was just inches from mine, and I choked back disgust at the smell of his rancid breath dripping with the scent of Jack Daniels. “I wasn’t done talking to you,” he said, his bloodshot eyes staring down at me. I hung my head, not daring to let him think I would challenge him. I knew better. He waited for my response and when none came he grunted and released me, shoving me away from him. I stumbled, catching myself on the counter ledge to keep from falling. My clumsiness angered him and I felt him reaching for me. He again snagged me by the arm, and wrapped a hand in my hair. He hoisted me up and then slammed my face directly onto the granite counter. I felt the tears sliding down my face, mixing with the blood that was pouring from my lip but did not cry out. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I should have.
I don’t remember what happened after this, but my nightmare carried through and left me with no better outcome than I could probably imagine . He lifted me from the counter and turned me to face the window that over looked the kitchen sink. My three children were looking in at me. They were banging on the window, crying for me to help them. I can still hear their little voices, “Mommy! Mommy please!!” They were sobbing. I fought then. I reached out towards the window and tried to touch them.
“RUN! RUN! RUN!” I screamed at them to run, but they couldn’t hear me. He shoved me up and forward then, my arm and then face smashing through the window, glass flying everywhere, then pulled me back through.
“You want to go through there? You want to run?” How could his voice sound so quiet and yet so terrifying at the same time? He dropped me on the floor then and for a moment I thought I was free until I felt his weight come down on top of me. He ripped the back of my shirt open. I fought again trying to get away and he pinned both of my arms down beneath his knees. He reached out and grabbed a piece of glass directly from my vision. I froze. He laughed, his low, sick laugh.
“Please. Please don’t. I am sorry. I am sorry. I so sorry.” At first there was a pause and then he laughed again as he ran the glass straight down my back. I screamed. I felt him push deeper and I screamed again, this time standing half upright in my own bed, arms flying. I was alone. I was safe. I could still feel his weight on me, the glass scraping across my back. I did not go back to sleep.